


Memento Mori

by Dott



Category: Monster High
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Fun with necromancy, It's gonna turn out alright trust me, Mentions of Cancer, there's a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 00:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11955930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dott/pseuds/Dott
Summary: Cleo doesn't have much time left. Deuce is hiding something. Life is about to get a new meaning.





	Memento Mori

Cleo squinted under her gold-rimmed sunglasses, in a partial attempt to block out the sun. The other reason was intolerance for being kept waiting.

The outside of the hospital had only one bench that wasn't a bus stop, and she mentally scolded Deuce for taking so long at Gamestop. He was picking up a copy of the new Zelda game for them to play; how long could a line for a video game **possibly**  be? She had been out here for seven whole minutes now.

Her phone buzzed, and she wearily glanced at it. A text from her father asking where she was and what they said during the appointment.

She huffed through her nose and typed a half-hearted response. She was out with Deuce, and the CAT scan went as usual; they said the treatment was proceeding the same as before. She wasn't expected to follow the same path as her mother, but she didn't want to think about that.

No, she didn't want to think about that, so she willed thoughts into her head about when her boyfriend of several months now would return, and she could pretend to be annoyed with him for about two minutes before he did something that made her melt again, because she couldn't even stay fake-annoyed with him.

As if on cue, she heard a car pull into the parking lot, and sure enough, it was Deuce. He was grinning at her through the window, waving a Nintendo box next to his head, mouthing something she couldn't understand, with visible enthusiasm even though he was wearing sunglasses like she was.

Cleo smiled. She didn't even last two minutes this time; barely two seconds.

When he drove up, she waited for him to exit the vehicle and walk over to her. He held a hand out. "Sorry, babe! It's nuts over there; everyone's trying to get the new system, too, but I snagged one."

"I was wondering what took so long!" She took his hand and stood up; she didn't need his help to stand up, but she liked the formality. "I didn't realize there were this many geeks in this town."

"If they're geeks, you're one of them, Cleo."

"I have never heard such an accusation thrown at me in all my life."

He shook his head and laughed as he opened the car's passenger door for her to climb in. She fixed the edges of his beanie and kissed him before she got in.

She kept quiet when she heard his breath hitch and his muscles tense slightly as her fingers touched his hat.

He told her once that he had some sensory sensitivities; that was why he wore the sunglasses, to protect himself from headaches caused by bright lights. She had just never flirtily fixed his hat before, and now she knew not to.

Cleo kissed his cheek to reassure him in case he noticed that she noticed.

He brushed back a piece of stray hair from her face. "Everything go okay in there?"

"Yes, it's business as usual. The CAT machine is still obnoxiously loud."

"I'm sorry, babe."

"Anyhow, I'm used to it." She tilted her head and smiled. "Which Link game is this, by the way?"

"The series is called The Legend of Zelda, and this one is Breath of the Wild."

"Why is isn't it called The Legend of Link? He's the hero, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but Zelda is the princess. It's named after her because Link loves her too much to take credit."

Her voice trilled. "Aww, is that true?"

"Could be if we want it to be. I made it up."

Cleo raised her eyebrows and got in the car. "Come on, Deucey, you've got a game to play, and I have your chocolate chip cookies to eat while I backseat game."

* * *

 

Cleo stared impatiently at the screen, waiting for her boyfriend to return to the couch. It was a couple days after they picked up the new game, and they still weren't done with the main quest.

She wasn't too concerned about that, though; since the day before, Deuce had been acting odd. He always seemed like something was distracting him, and it worried Cleo.

At first, she thought that if there was something wrong, he would tell her about it, since that was how he typically functioned. Talking through things helped him.

She heard the oven shut in the kitchen, and after a moment more, Deuce returned with a plate of cookies. They were sugar cookies; they liked to mix it up, since they had chocolate chip last time.

He set the plate on the coffee table, and picked up the game controller as her sat down. Usually when he sat with her on the couch, he immediately cuddled with her like usual, almost like it was a reflex.

This time, he just unpaused the game. Cleo frowned, and temporarily ignored the treats on the table. She had to say something to Deuce.

She placed a hand on his chest as she snuggled up to him. "Everything alright?"

"Mmhmm," he mumbled in a quiet tone that suggested everything was not alright. He leaned against her, keeping both hands on the controller as expected.

"Darling, you can tell me anything, you know." She kissed his cheek lovingly. "You usually like talking out your problems."

"Yeah." He shrugged, but his expression didn't change. "Uh... I guess, y'know, I'm kinda homesick lately."

Cleo immediately knew this was a lie. If he was really homesick, she would know -- it wasn't as if she was dismissing his feelings, she had seen him homesick before. No, this was something bigger.

She pursed her lips. If he was going to dodge the question, she couldn't get anything out of him until he decided to tell her. Worry stirred in her heart as she laid her head on his shoulder.

He sounded a bit more peppy when he spoke next, but there was still a subtle hint of... something. "I love you, babe."

"Love you too."

* * *

 

The next morning, Cleo woke up relatively early.

Deuce was still on her mind. His behavior the last time she saw him was eating away at her.

Something was wrong, and even if he didn't want to talk about it, she wanted to check on him.

After rubbing her eyes and stretching awake, she sleepily grabbed her phone. There was a notification; who had texted her in the middle of the night?

Reading the notification, it showed one text from Deuce, time stamped at four in the morning. At two sentences long, its berevity didn't look concerning at first, but as soon as she read it, she felt her breath hitch in her throat.

She read it again, and again, and tried to make sense of it.

She heard his voice in her head reading it out loud. "I can't see you anymore. I'm sorry."

No explanation, no elaboration, nothing. That was it.

After a few minutes of staring at the screen, she finally summoned the energy in her fingers to type back a reply, trying to sound calm and collected. Cleo de Nile did not lose her cool. "And why, exactly, is that?"

After pressing the send button, she locked her phone and laid her head back down on its pillow, a tightness forming in her chest. She wasn't about to stare at her phone waiting for a response like a child. If he was going to be a cryptic asshole after everything, she had better things to do, like sleep in a bit later.

But she didn't sleep. She stared at the wall across from her, trying to control her breathing. The two sentences wouldn't leave her head; they repeated like a broken record. It wasn't like him.

And, about five minutes later, her phone vibrated. She grabbed it, perhaps too quickly since the force knocked her lamp a bit to the left on the table, and looked at the message preview.

"I just can't. It won't work. I'm sorry."

Oh, you just can't, huh?

She hastily unlocked the phone and typed, "That's not a reason and you know it."

They exchanged a few more texts, which were mostly to the same effect. Cleo demanding an answer, and Deuce not ever giving an answer, not even a fuzzy one.

After a bit, his texts stopped coming. She left a couple more, telling him to answer her, but he did not.

Her hand, phone still gripped in it, fell to the bed. Tears began forming in her eyes, and she lasted two whole minutes before they escaped against her will.

She continued to cry, silently so nobody in the house would notice, for several minutes; she wasn't keeping track of how long. Her phone stayed silent the entire time.

Thirty minutes later, there was still no response. She knew he had his phone with him since he had responded to the first text so quickly. He was ignoring her, she was sure of it. She resented the tear stains that were now on her pillow.

No, she told herself, she didn't resent her tears. She resented Deuce. She thought she had finally found someone who would never even dream of hurting her, and he did just that.

It wasn't like him! Deuce wasn't like this!

No, no, he wasn't worth her love. He wasn't worth mourning.

So why did she still feel like crying?

* * *

 

The next few days went by in a blur.

Deuce's message lingered in her mind, hardly taking a moment to leave her thoughts alone. Her emotions were being tugged in a million directions, pulled by her brain's contradictory thought process. It told her that something had to be wrong, but it also told her she should be angry. She was. She could never be, not at him.

In the same week, during a doctor's appointment Cleo had tried to block from her mind, she was informed that her brain cancer was terminal. Just like her mother; brain cancer can be, and was, hereditary. She had a month left to live.

Cleo took the news silently. She had suspected she wouldn't live past her thirties, so the news was not a surprise to her; it was more of a depressing confirmation. Most of the upset in her heart was now directed at Deuce for not being with her in her final stretch.

A person she loved was acting horribly, horribly wrong, and she couldn't even process that she was going to die.

Just like her mother.

* * *

 

Three days after the death knell appointment, Cleo went for a walk downtown, heading for one of her favorite places to shop.

She wasn't sure what she was looking to accomplish. On one hand, getting herself something new would make her feel better for a moment or two, but not even new things could help her mood lately.

Deuce's apartment was on the way to the very same store, albeit on the other side of the street. Cleo knew this, and she could see the building from where she was on the sidewalk, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. If she happened to see him, she'd give him a piece of her mind. If and only if.

She didn't think of it as a form of hurting herself, but it definitely hurt seeing the familiar street.

As she got closer to the building, she noticed a few boxes on the front steps. It looked like someone was moving.

Cleo mentally scoffed. If she was lucky, it was Deuce.

And, almost as if on cue, the front office's door opened, and HE stepped out, hauling a box with both arms.

Cleo stopped, forgetting to breathe, her vision fogging up. For a moment, she felt nothing, and then, she saw red.

Her voice sounded hoarse when she shouted from across the street. "Hey!"

He nearly dropped was he was holding, and scrambled to get his grip on it again. His head whipped around. "Cleo?!"

Without thinking, she began stomping across the street towards him, indifferent to the cars hitting their brakes and honking at her. Her voice cut through the horns. "And just what the HELL do you think you're doing?"

Deuce's face was white, but he looked apalled. "Cleo!"

"What, is that all you can say? Cleo?" She was right in front of him now. "I know you aren't moving away after breaking up with me through a pathetic text message, I KNOW you aren't!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I--"

"Oh, you're sorry. Well, that makes everything all better, doesn't it? Mr. 'I don't know, I just can't date you anymore and I can't be bothered to give you an explanation why'?"

Deuce set the box he was carrying on the ground with a bit more force than he had probably intended. "I didn't have a choice, you know!"

"No, Deuce, I DON'T know! I don't know anything because you ignored me for an entire week!"

Deuce held his hands up, glancing uneasily at the staring passers-by. "You know what, Cleo? You're right. We do need to talk. Please stop yelling, though."

"I'll yell all I want after my boyfriend disppears from my life without explaining a single thing to me."

"Fair enough," he sighed.

"Okay! If you want to talk, let's talk." She crossed her arms.

"No, not here." He looked over his shoulder apprehensively. "Let's go inside."

* * *

 

They entered the apartment, and Cleo stood with her arms crossed. She didn't move from the spot she stopped in, refusing to budge.

Deuce shut the blinds, and Cleo would have been scared if it was any other guy, but it was Deuce. He was inconsiderate and heartless, but he wouldn't harm her.

He turned around and hugged himself. "Alright, I think I can explain. I'm sorry I hurt you that badly, I didn't mean--"

She ignored him. "Did you really think I wouldn't react? Do you have any clue how much I've cried over the past few days?"

"I didn't know it would be this huge of a reaction, no."

Cleo crossed her arms again. She felt like screaming. "And why not? It HURT, Deuce."

"I... I didn't really think that you cared about me that much. I didn't ever wanna hurt you." He looked at the ground. "I mean, I knew you'd be sad, but I thought you'd be able to move on later, I didn't think you liked me that much."

"Of course I do." She felt tears stinging her eyes again. "Of course I do, Deuce. I love you."

Deuce didn't look up, but she heard him sniffle. "I love you, too. But that's part of why I couldn't tell you anything."

"You better cut to the chase about this cryptic bullshit before my time is up."

His head snapped up. "Your time?"

"Yeah." She breathed in deeply and pursed her lips. "I'll be gone within a couple months."

Cleo opened her eyes to Deuce's face turning white. He stuttered, "You-- you didn't tell me-- I didn't know you--"

"I only found out three days ago. I would have texted you about it, but I thought it would have sounded like I was guilt-tripping you."

"But I thought they said your treatment was looking promising!"

"Well, apparently, they thought wrong."

"Cleo..."

His expression made her want to cry. It wasn't fair.

Deuce took a tenative step towards her, and she extended her arms towards him, signaling she was giving him permission to embrace her. They stood and held each other in the muted sunlight pouring in from the lone window. It felt like coming home after a terrible day.

Cleo tried to glare at something, but she couldn't make herself. "I'm still mad at you."

"I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have said that to you if I had known. I want you to know that."

"Well, I didn't know either, so. "

He began rubbing circles on her back, but evidently, he thought that was too much at that particular moment, because he stopped. She wished he would continue.

Deuce said, "Are you doing okay? With the news, I mean?"

"I'm dealing, I suppose. I think I kind of knew it was coming. I'm getting my father to give me more spending money than normal, and he hasn't grumbled yet. I guess he feels guilty." She scoffed. "But right now, I'm worried about something else. I deserve an explanation from you, because I love you, and I know you love me, and it doesn't make any sense, and I at least deserve closure on that."

"You're right. You do. I'm sorry, Cleo."

She pulled away from him and rested her hands on his chest. "No offence, Deuce, but stop apologizing and start explaining. You said you had no choice, what did you mean by that?"

He adjusted his sunglasses before putting his hand back on Cleo's shoulder. "I'm just going to warn you, it's not going to be easy to tell you this. I couldn't tell you before for both of our safety."

"And why not?"

"I didn't want you to get caught up in it. It's not something you need to get caught up in."

"You're making it sound like you're part of the mafia, and I know you aren't. You're too much of a sap."

"No, it's not that. It's..." He glanced at the ceiling, looking like he was trying to find the right words. "It's more complicated than that. Although it does involve a secret group of people."

Cleo narrowed her eyes, and Deuce paused before he continued. "It's not a group most people voluntarily join, though. You're either born into it, like I was, or you're kind of... forced into it, most of the time?"

"That sounds horrifying."

"It can be sometimes, although the scariest part is having to hide."

"Alright, now you're scaring ME."

Deuce stepped backwards, and his hands began fidgeting with his sunglasses. "What I'm going to tell you is a secret. You can't tell anyone else, or it'll be dangerous. And I'll understand if you freak out, or if you don't want to talk to me anymore afterward, but you can't tell anyone. I'm trusting you."

Cleo didn't reply, just nodded, her face unreadable.

"Alright." He took a deep breath. "Do you know why I wear these sunglasses all the time? Even at night?"

"You told me before that it's because of your light sensitivities."

"And that wasn't technically a lie. My eyes are sensitive to light. But that's a byproduct of wearing these my whole life, and that's for another reason."

"O-kay." Her head tilted. "You're stalling."

"Uh-huh." He laughed a shaky laugh. "Sorry. I've just never told anyone outside the...uh... group before. Well, uh... I have to wear these sunglasses because my eyes turn people to stone."

"Stone?" She raised an eyebrow. "Like Medusa? Are you serious?"

Deuce's throat sounded dry. "Yeah. And I wouldn't want to prove the petrification thing to you, obviously, but I've got snakes for hair, too. That's why I wear the hat. I've got to hide the fact that I'm a monster. A, uh... a gorgon, to be specific."

Cleo tilted her head and stared for a moment. There were a few tense moments of silence, and she said, "So, you aren't a human?"

"No."

"Let me see."

He raised his shaking hands to his hat, and hesitated for a moment before pulling it off.

Sure enough, he had green scales and several snakes on his head; they stretched out, having been under a hat for a few hours, and began looking around.

They looked at Cleo, and seemed to take interest in someone they didn't recognize. She stared right back, not blinking. Her expression had turned to a shocked one, and her eyes were huge with curiosity, but she didn't seem scared.

One of the snakes hissed, althought it didn't sound hostile, and Deuce rubbed the back of his neck. "You're taking this pretty well."

"You have... snakes on your head. I'm dying in a month, so that's not the most devastating news I've ever heard."

They both paused after she mentioned her time left, the air seeming to get thicker, and Cleo realized she probably shouldn't make light of it around Deuce. She used it as a way to cope, and had kind-of-sort-of known about her fate before the doctors even told her, but he had only just heard the news today.

Trying to change the subject, she asked, "So this secret group is like, other people with snakes on their heads?"

Deuce smiled. "No, just monsters in general. Like werewolves, and vampires, and things like that. My family is the only gorgon family I know of, actually."

"And you said you have to hide. So, does this mean that there's monsters all around, and nobody knows it?"

"Well, sorta. We're kinda spread out, but a lot live in this general area. For example, a zombie I know named Ghoulia lives about thirty minutes from this town, but my werewolf friend Clawd lives across the country. We all kinda know each other, though."

Cleo hadn't taken her eyes off the snakes, but it wasn't a judge-y stare. "Why have you got to hide, though?"

"People don't usually take kindly to us. It's for our own protection, to put it nicely."

"Oh."

Deuce gestured to his almost-empty living room. "And that's why I had to break things off with you. Someone put a weird message through my mail that made me nervous, like it made me think they knew I was a monster."

He looked down. "And then I heard about a monster I knew getting killed. They live a few states away, and I hardly knew them, but it scared me. And I got so paranoid, I decided to move. And I didn't want you to get caught up in it, because people who support us typically get the same treatment that we do."

"Oh," Cleo repeated, her voice quieter this time. "You could have explained it. I would have understood, you know."

"I know that now. I'm sorry."

"I accept your apology, but I also understand." She sighed deeply. "You're really moving?"

"I'm going with my mother to Greece. That's the plan, anyway."

"I'll miss you terribly."

Deuce silently started putting his hat back on, but Cleo jumped. "Wait! I want to meet them if you're going to be leaving!"

His mouth hung slightly agape. "Uh..."

"Would that be uncomfortable?"

"No, it's just... okay, that sounds alright."

He put the hat down, and as soon as the snakes noticed Cleo approaching, they all started studying her closer with curious black eyes. Her own eyes matched theirs, and she didn't shrink back like Deuce had always been afraid that she might.

In fact, she began leaning forward a bit, and the snakes mimicked her by trying to stretch themselves towards her. It was one of the only times Deuce had ever seen her in awe. She said in a hushed voice, "Can I pet them or will they bite me?"

Deuce laughed. He was a bit in awe, too. "They won't bite you. They can sorta feel the same things I feel, I think. And they know that you make me feel happy and safe, so they know you're good."

Cleo bit her lip in a thinly-veiled attempt at keeping herself from breaking into a full grin, and the sight made Deuce's heart beat faster.

She reached for his hair, and once she pet the top of one snake's head with her finger, the rest of them started pushing to get her affection. Laughing, she said, "They're little attention hogs, aren't they?"

"They don't get much attention to begin with, since I have to hide them so much."

Cleo cooed. "Poor things."

Deuce looked at his shoes. "So, you're not freaked out by them?"

"No, of course not. It's you, why would I be scared?"

"I dunno. You're the first person I've ever told that wasn't a monster, too. I'm not really sure how to go about this."

She caressed his head, and he tried not to flinch since that was a first, too. He wasn't used to his scales getting affection at all. She must not be mad at him anymore.

Cleo said, "You should have told me earlier."

"I didn't know back then if I could trust you."

"So it took a week of no contact and ignoring me for you to trust me?"

It took everything not to fall into a pile in her lap when her eyes got like that. "Cleo, you know it's my life that I'm gambling with. I was thinking about telling you, but then the thing with the letter and the murder happened, and I panicked."

"I know, Deucey." She sighed. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I just missed you, and I'm going to miss you. I'm glad that I know now, anyway. That's what matters."

They instinctively leaned to kiss each other, and when her fingers intertwined with his hair, it felt like that's how it should have been all along.

They broke the kiss apart and stood with their foreheads touching. Deuce opened his eyes and looked at Cleo from behind his shades. "You're where I belong."

Her eyes fluttered open. "Hm?"

"I'm telling them to bring my stuff back inside. I'm staying with you. I'm going to be with you for the rest of... for the rest of it."

Their noses bumped together. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Even with... everything?"

"Even with everything."

She immediately pulled him in to kiss him again.

* * *

 

In the following week, when Cleo wasn't at the hospital, she was at Deuce's apartment. She was milking every single second she had left, and she didn't intend to spend very many of those seconds around her father.

That particular day, she was laying in Deuce's arms on his couch after a session of Kirby (who Cleo gushed about every time they played his games), but she had begun to develop a headache, so they had put down the controllers. Deuce shut his blinds and turned the lights off to help lessen the intensity, and had wrapped them both in a soft throw blanket.

She groaned and cursed whenever she felt a stab of pain, and he quietly comforted her with sweet nothings, which somehow helped.

Cleo stared into the almost-darkness of his living room, the glow of the sun seeping in through the closed blinds and illuminating the small space just enough to see.

Everything felt real, even more real than it usually did; she was aware of her own body existing and the blood pumping with every heartbeat, she was aware of the individual strings in the rug laying within her eyesight, and she was aware of every breath Deuce took, the rise and fall of his chest in sync with hers.

At some point, they wouldn't be in sync anymore. He would be mourning her for God knows how long; she knew how he worked, and she would never say it to him, but she was afraid for him after she was gone.

And where would she be? She wasn't sure what kind of afterlife she believed in, or if she believed in one at all. She would lose everything she had, and even if life after death was arriving at a utopia, she didn't want that if it meant losing what was in front of her. Not yet.

She thought she had accepted her fate, but being left alone with her thoughts made panic take hold of her.

Pain shot through Cleo's skull again, and she inhaled sharply. Before Deuce could counter it with a reassurance, she said, "I don't want to die."

She could almost sense Deuce blinking hard behind his shades. He replied, "Huh?"

"I don't want to die. Do you remember how my mother died from the same kind of tumor? She was in her thirties, and that's too young. She didn't get to see me and Nefera grow up. She was too young."

Deuce held her tighter, but not too tight. His voice was quiet. "I'm so sorry, babe. I'm so sorry."

"And I'm twenty-two. That's too young! One of my earliest memories is my mother's funeral. That's going to be me, that can't be me."

She began crying into this chest. That was the only sound in the apartment, aside from the car horns outside.

She thought she heard Deuce sniffle a few times, but she didn't look. She kept her eyes tightly shut so she wouldn't have to look at the too-real rug that was going to be gone in less than a month.

Her tears lingered in her eyes even after she had stopped, and her breathing was shaky. She laughed, but it sounded more like a scoff. "I don't suppose one of your vampire friends could bite me."

Deuce didn't respond for a moment, but when he did, he sounded inquisitive. "Hey..."

She lifted her head and propped herself up to get at his eye level. "What?"

"You know, you might be onto something."

She stared at him without responding, and he continued. "You remember that zombie I mentioned the other day? Ghoulia? She does that kinda stuff. Like, she could bring you back if you wanted. You probably wouldn't be a vampire, and we'd have to talk to her beforehand, and come up with a plan to get you out of the state, but..."

Cleo continued staring at her boyfriend, the corners of her mouth turned down. She saw Deuce's face begin to turn red and felt his heartbeat accelerate under his shirt.

He turned his head off to the side, clearly trying to avoid looking at her. "I... I'm sorry. That's weird. I forgot that... things like that are freaky to non-monsters. I'm sorry. I'll drop it."

She blinked, examined his face a bit more, and slowly lowered her head back down to his chest. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes more.

Deuce's heartbeat had started to calm down again, but his skin felt clammy. Cleo ran her fingers across the skull decal on his t-shirt.

When she finally spoke, her tone was flat. "I wouldn't have to see my dad anymore."

Quiet again.

"Would I still feel sick?"

"I... I don't think so. I'm not sure exactly how it works, but I don't know of anyone who is still affected by past things." He felt stiff as a board.

Cleo took deep breaths. "Let me speak to this Ghoulia."

* * *

 

A few days later, the two were sitting huddled under a blanket, the light from Deuce's laptop illuminating their faces in the dark apartment. The lights were kept off at Cleo's request; she didn't want to risk a headache in the middle of the conversation.

It had taken a couple days to get in touch with Ghoulia. Deuce had expected as much, since she had always been a bit mysterious and elusive, but it aggravated Cleo.

Deuce opened Skype. "Keep in mind, if she sounds kinda robotic, it's because she's using a text-to-speech program. Or I guess you could call it thought-to-speech."

"Thought-to-speech? That's possible?"

"Apparently." He chuckled. "She hasn't patented it yet because she only really uses it with other monsters since I believe there's some enchanting involved, and she wants to make it seem scientifically plausible before she sends it out into the world."

"Huh. Makes as much sense as all the other stuff I've heard in the past week." Cleo paused. "So she's mute?"

Skype chimed as it began connecting to Ghoulia, and Deuce did a noncommital grunt. "Sort of. She's a zombie, so her vocal chords have deteriorated. She speaks in groans, but you don't know how to speak zombie yet, so she'll use the translator."

Cleo didn't respond, just stared blankly at the computer as the voice chat began. In a passing thought, she wondered what she was getting into, but then Deuce's hand casually found its way to hers, and she remembered.

Ghoulia's computer voice sounded almost convincingly human, but not quite. There was a slight artificial edge to its realness that made it feel uncanny. "Hello, Deuce. To what do I owe this occasion?"

"Hey, Ghoulia! I've got my girlfriend here with me; this is Cleo."

"Hello." Cleo tried her best to keep her voice from faltering.

"Nice to meet you, Cleo. Deuce mentioned you had a question to ask me?"

"Yes, I did. And I suppose I'll cut right to the chase. I'm going to die in less than a month."

There was a pause before Ghoulia's program responded. "A girl who doesn't mess around. I think I know where this is going."

Deuce's shoulders tensed. "I just knew you've done that kind of thing before, and I--"

Cleo interrupted. "I haven't decided anything yet, but that's why I wanted to talk to you."

"It sounds like you've made a decision already, if you've contacted me about it."

"Just tell me what would happen."

"Alright, alright." There was another pause, and one could imagine a sigh in its place. Ghoulia continued, "After you've passed, we would need to get your body over to my house. I assume you'll be having a funeral?"

Cleo's breathing slowed and she pressed her lips together. "Yes."

"I have connections with certain funeral parlors, if you can get in there. I'll email you specific details after this. Once you're transported here, I'd use a spell to pull your soul back into your body and bring you back to consciousness and autonomy; you see, the remnants of a soul stick around the corpse for several weeks after a peaceful death, but there's no way of telling what happens after that. You'd also be cleared of all symptoms from any previous illnesses you had. Now, in the event of a sudden, unexpected death, that's when a ghost forms, and--"

"Ghoulia." Deuce rubbed Cleo's hand with his thumb. "You're rambling. She'll have plenty of time to learn other stuff later."

"You're right. My apologies."

Cleo's head rested on her boyfriend's shoulder. "It's alright. So, I'd be like a zombie after that?"

"No. You would be undead, yes, but since you would be embalmed, you would be called a mummy."

"That's not just because I'm Egyptian, is it?"

Deuce genuinely laughed for the first time in what felt like forever, and Ghoulia's response could barely be heard. An eye roll could be detected through her words. "No, mummies are just undead that require something enchanted to keep them reanimated. Since the embalming takes away the functioning of the internal organs, stronger magic is needed. Most choose an article of clothing or jewelry to hold the magic in."

"Jewelry? I could deal with that."

"Just pick something that you're okay with wearing a lot, since you can't take it off. If you did, the enchantment would disconnect from you, and you would die immediately."

Deuce sensed Cleo's slight drop in comfort, and he said, "It's really not as bad as it sounds. I met a mummy named Seth once, and he wore a necklace kinda thing."

Ghoulia continued, "After you're reanimated, I would get my colleague to help you create a fake ID and passport, and that's about it, truthfully. The spell doesn't take more than a day, and the ID takes even less time."

Cleo pondered for a moment. "The new identity and running away is one of the most appealing parts about this. Deuce, where would we go?"

"I love 'we'." He kissed the top of her head, and she smiled before he continued. "Hmm... I bet we could catch another flight to Greece. I would love for you to meet my aunts."

"I would adore that."

Ghoulia said, "Can you two figure that out in your free time? If I've got a resurrection within the month, I've got things to order and sort out. Just let me me know when you make a decision, but make it soon."

"I want to do it."

Deuce pulled away to look at her. "I thought you hadn't decided yet?"

"I'm not ready to die." Cleo sighed. "And I have nothing to lose, and everything to gain. I've been doing some serious thinking the past couple days, and I want to live. This is a chance to get away from my father and start anew. I want to do that with you."

She gave a weary, lopsided smile when she saw her boyfriend's expression brighten.

Ghoulia replied, "Very well. I'll text Spectra, and she should be over in a few minutes to collect payment. I will see you two in a couple weeks, and if you change your mind, Cleo, let me know as soon as possible."

The Skype chat ended, but Cleo barely noticed. She was giddy thinking about no more headaches, no more CAT scans, running away with Deuce and never having to face Ramses again.

Everything about the monster world was weirder than the last, and it was sometimes unsettling, but she was intrigued by it. She felt safer with a boy with snakes for hair and deadly eyes than she ever had with anyone else.

She leaned forward to kiss him, but he put a gentle hand to her shoulder and held her where she was. He said, "I would love to have a moment with you right now, babe, but when Ghoulia says a few minutes, she _means_ a few minutes. Usually faster."

Cleo groaned. "Who's Spectra?"

He stood up and held his hands out to her, helping her stand up in front of him. "A friend of Toralei's, who is a friend of Lagoona's, who's a friend of mine. We get Spectra to transport stuff since she can sorta phase in and out of places."

"I'm almost entirely convinced you're making all these names up at this point."

All at once, the room became slightly colder. It wouldn’t have been noticeable to many people other than Cleo and Deuce, since they were both so sensitive to temperature dropping.

Deuce rolled his eyes. “I think we have a visitor.”

“That sounds extremely ominous, Deucey.”

He raised his chin and spoke to what was seemingly thin air. “Hey, you can come out. She’s safe.”

Cleo crossed her arms and rubbed them with her hands. “Define safe,” she mumbled.

Deuce noticed a familiar, pallid, translucent face shimmer into existence over Cleo’s shoulder, which she was completely oblivious to. Violet locks of hair curled around Cleo's arms like snakes.

He was about to interupt and tell the face not to try anything funny, but he was too late; she turned its lips towards Cleo's ear and, in a bored tone of voice, said "Boo."

Cleo jumped, and looked at the ghoul who was summoning the rest of her body to match her face. The human tried to sound unperturbed at the sight of her first ghost, since she _had_  been expecting someone, but there was an edge to her voice. "Is that how you greet everyone?"

The ghost spoke in a whispy, high voice as she floated over to the couch. "If you really want to join us, you're going to need to get used to us."

Deuce spoke up. "You know scaring people isn't gonna get us anywhere."

"No, no. She's right." Cleo rolled her eyes. "Even though, for me, this is less about wanting to be spooky and more about getting a second chance."

The ghost waved a hand in a dismissive way. "Tomato, tomahto. Anyway, the name's Spectra Vondergeist. I'm just here to collect the payment for Ghoulia's service." She leaned forward, sitting in midair with her hands crossed neatly in her lap. "And maybe get to know you a bit more... what was it again?"

"Cleo de Nile. You know, Deuce, maybe I was wrong before. Maybe you are in the mafia."

Deuce stared at Spectra. "We'll pay, but does she really need the money this early?"

"It's mostly so we know that you're serious. Joining the undead is a big decision not everyone gets to make when it happens, you know." Spectra drug her "o" sounds out, making her voice sound warbled. Cleo was convinced she did that on purpose to sound more ghost-like.

Cleo pulled her wallet from her pocket. "Yes, but my death wasn't exactly my decision to begin with."

"Fair enough."

"How much? I can run to the bank if you need me to, but I've got about two hundred in my wallet."

Spectra's eyes widened. "That'll do. It's for necessary expenses like gas money, and crushed dragon claws and salt to outline your corpse with while Ghoulia's working on you."

Deuce glared at Spectra, who gave him a 'what? it's true' expression in return.

Cleo, who ignored the comment, handed her the bills, and did her best not to comment on how odd Spectra's hand felt when she made it solid. "Dragons exist, too?"

Deuce nodded. "I had a pet one back on my family's island when I was little, but I'm friends with one named Jinafire, too."

Cleo was about to question why there were dragons that could be kept as pets and ones that he was able to be friends with could both exist, but she kept her mouth shut.

Spectra dropped the payment into a purse she had slung across her shoulder; the bag was see-through, but the money disappeared when it went inside.

Her fingers returned from inside the purse with a notepad and pen clutched in them. "Where'd you find moneybags here, Deuce? What's the story behind that?"

"Alright, we're done here." Deuce put his arm around Cleo. "Nice seeing you, Spectra."

The ghost pouted, and Deuce put his hand on his shades, threatening to lower them. She disappeared as quickly as she had came, taking the cold with her.

Cleo leaned into Deuce. "Why the abrupt goodbye? She was abrasive, but that whole floating thing was interesting, I'll give her that."

"Trust me, if she had stuck around, we would have ended up on her blog. All the monsters check it, and I'd rather everyone meet you first before they see Spectra call me a gold digger."

Cleo burst out laughing. "I can't escape the paparazzi, not even in the afterlife!"

* * *

 

The following few weeks went about the same as the past few days had.

Cleo spent most of her time at Deuce's place, as well as the hospital. Her days leading up to her death weren't noteworthy, other than the lingering dread and anticipation.

When she was at home, her sister ignored her, and her father tried making conversation with her at times, but it was always about her mother, so she tried to steer clear of him.

She didn't understand why he couldn't just focus on her comfort. He was her father. That was supposed to be his job.

It wasn't surprising to her, though.

In her final week, Cleo stayed at the hospital night and day. Laying in the bed was worse than the headaches to her, and she claimed it made her feel useless. Deuce visited every day to try and cheer her up, but she would slip in and out of sleep -- never long enough to focus on watching something.

She couldn't stand it.

* * *

 

Wednesday afternoon, Cleo knew. She didn't know how, but she instinctively knew that she was going to pass soon, and this would be her last day with a beating heart.

She lay in the white hospital bed, staring out the window at a passing airplane. Strangely, she didn't feel dread; there were only persisting thoughts of duty. There were a couple of things she had to take care of before she left this stage of her life.

When Deuce came that day, he came with chocolates in a heart-shaped box, her favorite kind. She didn't have an appetite for them, but she took the box in her hands anyway.

She drank in the box's details with her eyes, admiring the lace and the gold ribbon. Her voice was quiet and weak, and it annoyed her. "I want you to choose what I wear."

As he sat down, he leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

"Ghoulia said she would need to enchant something, right? I want you to pick what it is, and I'll trust your judgement."

"I..." He quietly chuckled. "It's, uh... funny you mention that."

Her head turned towards him, her hair itching her face where it was pressed into the pillow. "Oh, did you have something in mind?"

"Yeah. It's a ring, and I--"

"Say no more." Cleo smiled. "I want it to be a surprise."

His cheeks began tinging themselves red, and he looked at his hands. "I can't properly propose to you without it, though. I mean, I was planning to do it later, but then you..."

"You were going to propose? On my death day?"

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds terrible."

Her smile grew, and she felt her inability to move decline, but she attributed it to butterflies. "You're terrible. Come here."

"So, yes?"

"Come _here_ , before I pass out again!"

Deuce leaned over her bed and she kissed him sleepily, and ignored the fact that this would probably be the last time she would kiss him with warm skin.

* * *

 

The final person to visit her was Nefera, of all people.

Cleo's sister had slipped into her room after she had taken another nap. Cleo guessed that she had thought it was her final sleep, and decided to sieze the chance to talk to her again before she fell asleep again.

It was an awkward few minutes after Nefera entered. Besides a compulsory "hello", neither of them said anything, and instead opted to stare at the television screen.

Cleo had plenty on her mind, though, and she knew for a fact that her sister did, too. And Nefera wasn't going to initiate anything.

As Wheel of Fortune came back from commercial break, Cleo stared at the cieling, trying to pick her words while ignoring how chapped her own lips were. "Listen, Nefera. Before I... before I'm gone, I wanted to let you know I don't hate you."

Her sister didn't react, so Cleo continued. "I think that you could have made better choices, but Mom hasn't been here for a while, and I'm definitely not her. I'm not going to tell you what to do. I'm just letting you know that there's no hard feelings between us. Not anymore. I don't want there to be, anyway."

Nefera's jaw clenched and she was quiet for a moment before responding. "You're only doing this because you're dying."

"Yes, Nefera. That's exactly why I'm doing it, actually."

"Hmph." She paused again, and she didn't look at Cleo. "Mom would have been proud of you. I know you don't remember her very well, but you're more like her than Dad, and that's a good thing."

"That means a lot. Thank you. You know, she would have been proud of you, too. I want you to keep that in mind. I'm not Mom, and you're not Dad."

Nefera exhaled through her nose. "That means a lot, too."

Cleo rolled over. "Now, I'm going to pretend to be asleep. If Dad walks in here, I don't want him to talk to me."

"Don't count on me to keep guard just because you're sick."

Neither of them could see, but both of the sisters had faint smiles on their faces. It wasn't a sweet goodbye, but it was closure for both of them.

For the remaining few minutes until Nefera stood up and left, the only noise in the room was the faint soundtrack of the game show emanating from the TV.

* * *

 

At 9:41 p.m., Cleo passed away with her father and her sister in the room. She was asleep when it happened, and had been for several hours.

Deuce was not allowed in the room, and stayed in the waiting chairs outside instead, so he wasn't sure how her family had reacted at the moment of departure.

When a middle-aged nurse broke the news to him, he found himself feeling a strange mix of emotions. The words made his head sting for a moment, and the flourescent lights in the room made it hard to concentrate on anything, but the anxiety went away when his thumb rubbed against the gold ring in his pocket. He took it out to glance at it, its metallic surface grounding him and reminding him of the future.

Deuce was pulled back to Earth by the nurse putting her hand gently on his shoulder. "Sir?"

He rubbed his eyes. "Sorry."

"It's alright, dear." The nurse gripped her clipboard a bit tighter, looking at the ring in his hand. "You were her...?"

He nodded at her, his face vacant. "Her boyfriend. For about a year and a half now."

She looked like she was going to wince in pain. "I'm so sorry. You know, there's support groups and things like that."

"Huh?" He blinked, and the gears in his head slowly turned as he realized she probably thought he was going to propose with the ring he was holding, but never got a chance to. It was half true, but it wasn't an explanation he felt like sharing.

He closed his hand around the ring and shoved it back in his pocket. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I, uh... I've been spacing out. It's hard to stay grounded, you know."

The nurse patted his shoulder sympathetically, but walked away without saying anything else. Deuce hoped nobody else would talk to him. He would be terrible at faking distress, and he didn't need to freak himself out.

He left the hospital without saying goodbye to Ramses and Nefera. He'd see Cleo soon enough, and trying to talk to her family would just be an exercise in futility.

It took him two hours to fall asleep that night.

* * *

 

The next day, Deuce took the time to iron his dress pants, since they had been stuck in a drawer for several months beforehand. He never usually put much effort into what he was wearing, but her funeral was a big enough occasion.

The television played muted on the other side of the room, the characters on the screen moving their lips with no sound coming out. It made it feel like a ghost was in the room with him.

He knew this was, of course, impossible, since Cleo wouldn't be a ghost. It wasn't worth thinking about that right now, anyway.

Clawd was on speakerphone as Deuce worked on his clothing. It was nice to have a familiar, friendly voice with him. Usually this time of month, he, Clawd, and some other monster guys held a DND session over the phone, but they skipped it this time.

Clawd's voice crackled due to a slightly spotty signal. "Hey, man, do you really think going to the funeral is such a good idea? You know Slo Mo has it covered."

"I need to. I've gotta keep an eye on her."

"What for? It's not like she's gonna run off."

Deuce clenched his teeth. "Don't joke about it."

"Sorry." There was a tense pause before he continued. "I know you're worried about it, but it's gonna be okay. Ghoulia's really smart, and she trusts Slo Mo, so you should too. They'll have Cleo out of there just like they promised."

"Yeah. You're right."

Clawd could almost be heard smiling reassuringly through the phone. "Will you guys need a place to crash?"

"Actually, I'm probably gonna take her to Petros Island. I figured it'd be a good time to introduce her to the fam."

"So no DND for a while, you long distance jerk."

"Relax, Skype exists."

* * *

 

The funeral looked expensive, but it felt stiff and disingenuous.

The venue was nice, but smaller than Deuce had been expecting. The flowers were her second favorite color -- royal blue -- but this was probably due to coincidence. He wasn't sure what kind they were, but she would have been able to tell. She was smart about things like that.

Cleo would have hated the entire thing, knowing nearly everyone in attendance was pretending that they really knew something about her. Deuce couldn't decide whether or not to lie about it if she asked him about it later.

He did catch a glimpse of Nefera with reddened eyes, and he felt a twinge of empathy. He didn't know if he should tell Cleo about seeing that, either. It may just make her feel bad. It did, however, give him hope that the final conversation between the sisters wasn't horrible.

Nefera would be okay, Deuce thought. WIth Cleo gone, he didn't think she had any reason to stay around their father anymore, and she would bounce. Maybe he'd get Spectra to catch up on her later.

He didn't talk much during the funeral, and tried to stay away from everyone else. If the clique of old rich people wanted to talk about him being there, let them. He had a girlfriend to keep an eye on, and he wasn't going to let whispers about his sunglasses and hat being "disrespectful" stop him.

While he did intend to keep an eye on her, he didn't actually walk up to view her. He didn't really want to see her in a casket, because that meant goodbye, and that's not what this was.

After an hour of stiff awkwardness, he didn't stay for the burial, because he doubted her family would have let him, anyway. He knew Cleo wasn't in the box that was being lowered into the ground.

If everything had gone correctly, Cleo was on her way to his friend Ghoulia's place, after being quickly removed from her casket in the back of the funeral home after the visitation was over.

As he slipped out of the funeral home, he didn't look back.

It took him thirty minutes to drive to the zombie's house (he was lucky Ghoulia was as close as she was), and Deuce kept going back and forth from having the radio switched off, to listening to a talk show, to playing music. His leg bounced under the wheel the entire duration of the ride.

When he arrived at the unassuming suburban home, he saw Slo-Mo leaving from the front door. Deuce smiled at him as he got out of his car, and Mo nodded.

Neither of them exchanged any conversation; Slo-Mo was a man of few words, and Deuce knew he had to return to the funeral home. He made a mental note to send him a text later saying thanks.

* * *

 

As Deuce entered Ghoulia's basement, the zombie stuck an arm out before he could approach Cleo, blocking his way out of nowhere. Her electronic translator's voice was slow, and it looked like it was about to fall off of where it was clipped onto her shirt. "You have it?"

"What?" Deuce inhaled sharply. "Oh! Right."

As Ghoulia adjusted a knob or two on the translator, Deuce reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the ring; it was an expensive-looking gold one, with turquoise and diamond details. Ghoulia's eyes widened. "Jesus, how much did you pay for that?"

"Do you think she'll like it?" He looked over at Cleo, and Ghoulia imagined he had puppy dog eyes behind his glasses. "I'm afraid she won't. Do you think she will?"

"If she loves you a fraction as much as you seem to love her, she'd be happy with anything. I mean, we're bringing her back from the dead already, is she really gonna be concerned with what the thing looks like?"

"You really have never met her if you're saying things like that."

Ghoulia rolled her eyes. "Regardless, I think you're safe."

Deuce put the ring in her outstretched palm. "Please, be careful."

"Listen, if I wasn't sure about this, I'd tell you. You're getting second thoughts?"

"No! It's not that. I was fine for a while. But seeing her just laying there is kind of..." He sighed. "It's scary. But I can't back out now. I'm not ready to let go of her, and she's not ready to die. I promised her."

She smiled at him reassuringly. "And I'm promising you, so don't worry. Now, I need to prepare a couple things before I start working on the corpse."

Deuce winced. "Gods, don't call her that."

Ghoulia went to go flip through a book that was laid out on the counter. "If you wanna see her, now's the time."

Deuce looked at Cleo again. She hadn't yet been changed out of her dress she was wearing in her casket, and that unsettled him.

After approaching her, he brushed a few black strands out of her face and stroked her hair. Her face felt cold to the touch, and it remained vacant and lifeless instead of responding. Usually, when he did something like that, she smiled the most radiant smile he had ever seen, and her whole face lit up. This time, there was nothing.

Despite his confidence that she'd be back soon, it made him melancholy seeing her like this. He was used to the dead being cold, but not unmoving and still.

Ghoulia could be heard preparing things behind him, and she seemed to sense his unease. "I told you, there's nothing to worry about. I'm fairly sure this is going to work." She snapped her rubber gloves on her wrist. "But you will have to leave for a bit now."

"Alright." He leaned over and kissed his fiance's forehead. "I'll be back as soon as she lets me, Cleo."

He stood up after his eyes lingered on Cleo for another moment and trudged towards the door.

* * *

 

Deuce loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt as he headed for the living room. He hated formal clothing; it always felt uncomfortable. Sweatpants and t-shirts felt better against his tough skin, as backwards as that sounded.

He tried focusing on the relief he felt around his neck instead of the girl downstairs. It would feel so much better once he was able to get into some pajama pants.

He stopped in his tracks. Was that... the Full House theme song coming from the living room's entryway?

Deuce stepped inside, and was met with a green ghoul with salt and pepper hair lazing on the couch as Bob Saget flashed by on the TV screen. The two made eye contact, and she broke into a full grin. "Deuce!"

"Frankie! What are you doing here?"

She hopped up and practically bounced over to the gorgon, wrapping friendly arms around him. "I'm here with Holt and Jackson! They crashed in one of the bedrooms upstairs for now, but they're gonna help the new ghoul with her passport and ID and stuff."

"Oh yeah!" Deuce chuckled, welcoming the friendly hug. "It's awesome to see you again!"

Frankie pulled back and nodded. "We should really try and hang out more often, I don't get to see you guys enough, especially when I don't have to wear my skin paint! It's so exciting, though; new additions to our little club are always lots of fun."

The corners of his mouth lowered a bit, but he kept the smile on. "Yeah, I'm excited too."

She noticed the change, and tilted her head. "Something wrong?"

"Nah. It's just general nervousness, you know? I don't really feel like talking about it, though."

"Aw, it'll be alright! Here, come sit with me for a bit." She took his hand and pulled him over to the couch, and they sat down. She put a supportive stitched hand on his shoulder. "I think this is the one where Jesse nearly moves out. It'll be theraputic."

Deuce squeezed Frankie's hand in thanks. "You're a good friend, you know that?"

"Yeah, I've been told."

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Cleo was floating.

She had been floating for a few days. It had probably been a few days, anyway; it very well could have been a few minutes, or a few centuries. Time didn't feel real where she was.

She didn't remember anything from before she entered this black void, devoid of senses. As far as she knew, it was all she had ever known. No emotions, no physical form, no memories, nothing. It was neither bad nor good; she had no feelings to judge it with.

She wasn't even sure if she was a "she" anymore. Maybe an "it"? Did vague remnants of a passed human life use pronouns?

This was how it was for Cleo after her heartbeat stopped.

That is, until she felt something again.

* * *

 

It was a vague tugging feeling; she wasn't sure how this was possible, since she didn't really think she had a body anymore. But the sensation was still there.

This was paired with a droning kind of humming. She felt the inexplicable urge to hold onto these sensations; they were odd, but benevolent.

She heard a low, mumbling, zombie-like groan that she shouldn't have been able to understand, but still did: "Come on, almost there."

And then a memory came.

She was young, and she was standing in front of a large wooden box; a casket. A man and a girl were beside her. This was her father and sister. Inside the casket was her mother. Tears were lingering on Cleo's little eyelashes. She knew her mother's name was Dedyet; it was a beautiful name originating from ancient Egypt, but Cleo loathed its irony in English.

Another memory.

At school, laughing at a lunch table with some friends. She remembered that they were fake friends, but they were what she had. One with blonde hair and a pointy smile called her Cleo. Her name was Cleo.

And another.

Deuce (how did she know his name so quickly?) pointing at a television screen and explaining some video game to her that she wasn't interested in. She remembered she liked Deuce and video games, but she was particular with which games she would play. The sunlight from the window glinted off Deuce's sunglasses, and she squinted, but he didn't notice. They were holding hands.

Her mind, which now existed as a concept to her, was flooding with memories, somehow both all at once, yet slowly enough that she was able to pick apart each one. They were good and bad, long and short, important and meaningless.

She felt like she had arms to bend and legs to move again. She remembered now. She was Cleo de Nile, and she was dead! She was dead, and then she wasn't! That's why she was here!

Cleo tried curling her fingers, but even though she felt her limbs again, every part of her felt numb. She felt her vocal chords vibrate as she let out a weak groan.

Another voice spoke, and this one sounded more robotic and tinny. "Hey, don't move. Don't try to talk, either. I'm almost done, but I need you to keep still." A pause. "Oh, and I'm Ghoulia, by the way."

Cleo obliged. She felt that she would normally try to argue, but she was exhausted.

The humming continued, louder this time, and she still felt like she was floating, but it wasn't the same as in the void; this was more airy.

She was feeling more and more like herself every minute, and with this, she was more and more disturbed at what she just went through. She guessed everything had went as planned, but the thought that she hadn't been...anything was scary. She liked being Cleo de Nile.

She also wanted to open her eyes, but she was afraid it would mess something up. Spectra's past mention of crushed dragon claws scared Cleo into remaining as still as possible; she wasn't sure how all this magic worked.

About five minutes passed, the humming and the numbness subsided, and Ghoulia spoke again. "Okay, it's over. You can move now, but it may be difficult for a little while."

Cleo tested it by trying to move her fingers again. It was almost a miracle being able to feel them bend at her will again, but her joints ached from fatigue.

She opened her eyes, and saw an unfinished ceiling, the kind you would see in a basement. Were they really doing this in a basement? People have absolutely no standards.

A girl with cat-eye perscription glasses and an ashen complexion entered Cleo's view; she assumed this was Ghoulia. The girl said, "I should go through standard procedure , just to be sure everything went as planned. What's your name?"

"Cleo de Nile." Cleo was disgusted at how raspy her own voice sounded.

"Check. And how old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"Right again. And what's the last thing you remember?"

"Laying in a hospital bed, trying to pretend like my father wasn't there during my dying breaths. Now, where's Deuce?"

"Yep, your memory has recovered. One second, let me finished cleaning up and I'll get him."

As Ghoulia removed her gloves and walked away, Cleo cleared her throat and sat up. She still felt lightheaded, but it was getting better.

She held her hands in front of her and examined them. There was a large, ornate ring on one of the fingers, and she assumed this was the one Deuce had picked out for her. It was a comfort for a moment before she moved on to the next thought.

Her hands were still HERS, everything about her was still undeniably HERS, but something was different now. Her skintone was a little duller now; it was still a dark human skin color that was fairly close to her old one, but with a bit of a gray tinge to it.

Her muscles felt odd. She could still move with the same flexibility, but it felt like being in a foreign body. A foreign body that was nearly identical to hers in appearance. She felt a twinge of dread when she realized this was likely the embalming fliud in her system.

She put a hand to her chest as she heard Ghoulia go up the stairs to her left. No heartbeat. This was when she noticed no air was entering her lungs, either; she hadn't been breathing this entire time. She hadn't needed to.

Panic began running through her veins (not pumping, since her heart was inactive). She was glad to be alive, but she had underestimated how different she would feel, physically. She didn't like it; it scared her.

"Cleo!"

She jumped as she heard someone walking down the stairs two at a time, a zombie right behind him, and her adrenaline from being startled turned into a comfortable blanket of relief. Her boyfriend -- no, her fiance!

She only had time to look and smile at him before she was engulfed in his embrace. She hugged him back, and pressed her face into his shirt. He was so warm and comfortable that she couldn't focus on anything else for a few seconds.

Deuce planted kisses on the top of her head. "I'm so glad it all went well!"

"I'm never going there again. Never."

"Going where?"

"Being dead. It's just dark, but I can't even be properly scared because I can't remember anything."

He pulled her tighter. "Aw, babe..."

Ghoulia walked over. "You won't have to as long as you don't take off that ring."

"The ring!" Cleo kept an arm around Deuce, but pulled back far enough so they could look at the ring together. "Deuce, it's utterly royal!"

"Do you really think so?" Deuce's cheeks turned red. "I was afraid you wouldn't like it. You've gotta wear it all the time, after all, and you've got so much other jewelry."

"It's the most stunning thing I've ever seen, I swear it. I love it and I love you."

Deuce kissed her forehead, and the two of them turned to Ghoulia, still half-tangled up in each other's arms. Cleo leaned the side of her head on his chest and, ignoring Ghoulia's eye roll, asked, "Hey, is being exhausted just a part of being undead?"

"You'll feel better after a little while, you've just gotta give it some time. And before you ask, you'll get used to the unfamiliar feeling soon, too." Ghoulia smiled. "I went through the same thing once upon a time."

Cleo turned her hand under the basement's solitary lightbulb, admiring the way the light caught on the ring. "In that case? Not a bad break, I'd say. I don't even feel the same kind of cancer-sick as before, it's something different, but if I get over it, that'll be great. But don't you think my skin has taken on an unsightly tinge now?"

Deuce shook his head. "I think you're beautiful."

"You would, wouldn't you? You have to love me."

Ghoulia interjected. "Anyway, if you ever want me to enchant another piece of clothing or article of jewelry to keep you reanimated, I can do that and it won't be a huge ordeal like today was. Just send it over with the appropriate compensation."

"Thank you dearly, Ghoulia, but I think I'll stick with this one for a while." Cleo kissed her fiance's cheek.

The zombie shrugged. "Well, the offer stands if you ever need it. How long are you two going to be here? You can stay as long as you need to, but I think the other guests are flying out in a few days."

Deuce furrowed his brow. "I guess until the next flight to Greece leaves."

"The guest bedroom upstairs with the blue walls is all yours in the meantime."

Cleo yawned at the mention of a bed. "Splendid. I need beauty sleep like nothing else. I know I just came back from the dead, but I feel like I could nap for eons. I can meet the others when I haven't just been ressurected."

Deuce absentmindedly rubbed her back. "I haven't slept very well since the night before the service, so I think I'll join you."

"Good, because I always seem to have sweet dreams with you around."

* * *

 

And, after they made their way upstairs and settled under the pastel blue sheets, she did have sweet dreams.

Falling asleep was earier than it had been in the past year or so; there was no looming pain in her head, no headaches. She was able to just relax.

She wasn't sure how long she and Deuce were asleep, but when she woke up, the sky outside was a gray tinge that suggested either sunrise or sundown, and her fiance was speaking in a low voice to someone next to the bed. A girl with green skin. Cleo looked closer; there were stitches on her skin in several places, the incisions circling her limbs.

The girl noticed Cleo staring, and she smiled. "Hey there! You've got good timing, I was about to go back downstairs and wait for you to wake up."

Deuce turned and smiled once he noticed his fiance was awake. "Hey, babe. This is Frankie."

Frankie waved, and Cleo could have swore she saw a stitch loosen. She smiled back regardless. "Well, nice to meet you, Frankie. Are you here for the same reason I am?"

"Nope! Actually, my boyfriend Holt is here to help you out with your new passport. I just tagged along because I haven't seen Deuce in forever." Frankie poked his face. "He's an old friend of mine. I was just letting him know the camera's set up down there whenever you're ready, so he could tell you."

"Ah." Cleo laid her head back on her pillow, folding her hands on her stomach. "In that case, I'll be down in a little bit."

Deuce glanced back up at Frankie. "She's gotta put her face on."

"Oh, I already got that taken care of!" Frankie pointed to the faint outlining around her jawline, and giggled as she walked towards the door. "It was great meeting you, Cleo! I can't wait to talk some more!"

As the peppy girl left, Cleo stretched her arms sleepily. "Does she really take her face OFF? Like, REALLY off?"

"I dunno, actually." Deuce chuckled. "I know the rest of her can come apart, though."

"You know, the monster world is more and more grotesque and odd the more I learn about it, but it's not really a bad thing at all. It's almost endearing after a life of boredom."

"I'm glad to hear that I'm almost endearing."

"Hush, Deucey, everything about you is endearing and you know it."

* * *

 

Half an hour later, Cleo was entering the dining room, bypassing the pushed-aside table and chairs to approach the photo setup.

She pondered briefly how she hadn't been hungry since she was reincarnated, since the dining room reminded her of eating, but she couldn't dwell on this for very long -- a radio was playing a dance remix of Into You, and the beat made her forget her existentialism and want to twirl her shoulders.

A guy in a red leather jacket, likely Frankie's aforementioned boyfriend, was fiddling with the camera. His blue skin contrasted with the jacket in a way that you'd think would look tacky, but actually worked well. His hair matched his clothes, but the tips had a slight glow to them, like they were made of embers.

Cleo guessed he was some kind of fire monster. She hoped the backdrop wouldn't catch flame.

"Hello?" She inquired.

He turned in a smooth motion, almost as if he had rehearsed it. "Hey, hey, new girl in the house!"

"Holt, I presume?"

"The one and only!" His voice had a melodic quality, as much as he seemed to be straining himself to speak a certain way. "And you must be her highness Cleo."

"I'll accept no other title." She smirked. "So you've heard of me."

"Your man wouldn't shut up about you before y'all both passed out. Now, getting your picture is just gonna take a second, but you're gonna have to wait for me to print stuff out before you get the hell out of Dodge."

Cleo walked over and sat on the stool as she replied. "Fine by me. Turns out, being brought back from the dead is exhausting."

Holt peered through the lens, checking to make sure everything lined up. "I wouldn't know, I was born this way. Now stop smiling, girl, this has to look like a real ID photo."

As he snapped a few photos at different angles (some from the front and some from the side), and changed the backdrop so it would look like the passport and driver's lisence photos were taken on different days, Cleo zoned out to the music. Ariana Grande was a favorite of hers.

This stopped, however, when some new Katy Perry track slipped in seamlessly with the remix. Cleo kept herself from curling her lip; no way was she going to listen to this.

The radio was within reach of her foot; she used her high heel to change the channel. Some folksy Sam Smith song was on this station, which honestly wasn't much better in Cleo's opinion.

Before she could turn the station again, Holt stopped in his tracks. He was approaching her with a coat to put over her current clothes to help with the illusion, but it fell from his hands and his arms stiffened.

Cleo held her breath. "Are you alright?"

Almost immedaitely, flames swooped up Holt's legs and the rest of him, and Cleo gasped. She was about to scramble backwards until she saw the flames had disappeared, and the blue boy was now... well, human-looking. He was in a sweatervest now, and his hair had turned black and decidedly non-glowing.

He stood up straighter, and looked around him. When he spoke, his voice was more nasal than before. "Oh, man."

Cleo stared, trying to find words. "Wh... what?"

"I wasn't supposed to be out until after he was done." Holt(?) looked at Cleo. "Why'd you turn the music off?"

"I just changed the channel!" She crossed her arms. "Where did Holt go? Or are you still him? And what was with the fire?"

"I'm Jackson. He and I kinda share a body." His shoulders slumped. "He'll be back in a second, hold on."

Jackson, Holt, whoever, leaned down and flipped the radio a couple times until something high-energy was playing again. The flames were back, and in an instant, the boy was blue again.

He tilted his head and glared at Cleo. "Let's not touch the music again, alright?"

She threw her hands in the air. "Will you please tell me what the hell is going on?!"

"Did the nerd not tell you? We share a body and I'm out when good music is playing, it's as simple as that." He picked the coat up off the floor, and offered it to her. His voice rose in a crescendo, obviously trying to play off the transformation for now. "Let's get this overwith, I'm staaarving!"

Cleo obliged, and wanted to press further, but kept her mouth shut in an annoyed silence. She was still a bit shaken from the flames.

* * *

 

After an awkward few minutes of finishing up the photoshoot, Cleo left for the kitchen while Holt began working on the printers he brought, which were probably illegal to own.

She still wasn't hungry after an hour of being awake, and there was no pop music this time to draw her away from her thoughts about her new physiology.

Would she ever be hungry again? She could see this being a good thing, but it may also mean she could never eat again. She would miss grapes.

Frankie was pouring herself a bowl of chips when Cleo walked in. With a glance at the wall clock, she determined it was definitely early morning. She wondered how long her reanimation had taken, and how long she had slept for afterward.

The green girl gave her now-familiar friendly smile when she noticed her new friend. "Got all that finished?"

"Yes. Your boyfriend is an interesting character. Is it boyfriends?"

Frankie giggled. "Oh, sorry. I probably should have warned you about that. Holt's my boyfriend, and Jackson is my good friend who is also a boy. It's a little bit of a sore subject for both of them. The switching part, not the boyfriend part."

Cleo sat at the table, reluctant to get any food. "Why's that?"

"I think they just don't get along very well. Plus, it must be hard not being able to be, you know, 'out' all the time."

"Oh. That is true." She clasped her hands together. "Where's Deuce?"

"He went to go get you some scarves and other things so that Ghoulia can enchant them."

Cleo sighed. "I told him I loved the ring."

"He wanted to make sure you had some backup." Frankie popped a chip in her mouth, and held one out to the other girl. "Want some?"

"Ah..." She hesitated, and grabbed it. "It's safe for me to eat?"

"Yeah! You can still eat, it's just optional for undead. Like something to do for fun."

"That's a relief. I wasn't ready to give up chocolate."

They laughed, and each paused for a moment as they ate the chips.

It tasted refreshingly salty, its flavor spreading across Cleo's taste buds like the tide. It was possibly the most delicious thing she had ever eaten.

This brought her back to her previous thoughts.

She stared at the table, not reaching for more food just yet. "Frankie?"

"Mmhmm?" Frankie's voice was muffled, since she was chewing.

"You're undead, right?"

She finished, and pursed her lips in thought. "Sorta? I mean, I am made of dead people's body parts, but I didn't retain any of the memories from the body and brain I have. Or bodies. I'm not sure, I should ask my parents some day how many people I'm made of."

Frankie noticed Cleo's subtle change in comfort level, and continued. "Sorry. I know all this stuff is kinda weird to you, since it's new. But I think I would be classified as a type of undead."

"No need to apologize for the way you are. I was just wondering if you had any advice, since everything's so different now. I don't look that much different, but I haven't been able to shake the strange feeling. And I know I'll get used to it, but..."

"I get what you mean." Frankie nodded thoughtfully. "It really will get better, but it's probably scary having died and all, isn't it?"

"It's terrifying. I'm so, so glad to be back, but... I was dead for a bit. I didn't know who I was."

"Hmm... what if you thought of it like this: you know babies don't know who they are before they come into existence, right? It's kinda like that. Not exactly, but you existed, and then you didn't for a bit, but you're back, and everything's okay!"

"I suppose. The concept of not existing is a scary one to me, though."

Frankie patted her hand. "It definitely is scary. You'll never have to deal with it again, though, and that's the important part. It's a little bit like how I started existing with the mind of a teenager, and I never went through the growing up stage, really. The difference between us is, I had to make friends and learn stuff myself. You've already got all that stuff down, so you're set!"

Cleo smiled. "That's one way of looking at it. And you know what? I bet I'm going to feel more alive now than I ever did back then."

"That's it! That's exactly it!" She nodded, her grin infectuous.

"Frankie, I've only known you for a day, but don't ever let a soul change you."

The front door opened and shut, and Deuce walked in moments after, bags under his arms.

Cleo's hand flew to her mouth. "How much did you buy?"

He set them down on the table in front of her, pulling a gorgeous peacock print scarf. "Just a few. I figured you could pick out the ones you wanted and the others could look through the rest."

She stood up and gave him a side hug. "Sounds like a nice arrangement."

Frankie peered into the bag. "Can I call dibs on that red choker?"

"Red's not my color, anyway."

Deuce raised an eyebrow. "It is my color, though. Watch it, Stein."

Frankie laughed like she did at everything; like it was the most pleasant joke in the world.

* * *

 

That night, after spending the day getting to know Frankie, Holt, Jackson, and Ghoulia, Cleo was sitting on the blue guest bed with Deuce, sifting through his purchases. She liked nearly everything in there; he truly knew her well.

She did love the ring with all her heart, and she didn't intend to stop wearing it anytime soon. It was just nice to have more things to accessorize with. It made her feel more like herself.

Plus, getting presents from Deuce never got old.

Deuce sat across from her on the bed while he sat and watched, his hat off of his head and set to the side. The snakes were happy to be out again, and Cleo noticed some of them would stare curiously when she picked something up. It was still precious to her how they did that when they noticed things.

She ran her fingers across the chain on a necklace with a blue charm. "You've got the tickets to Greece in order?"

He crossed his legs. "Yeah. I did that earlier today; we're gonna drive to the airport in a few days."

"What's your family's island like?"

"It's awesome. Not a thing in sight, so you can relax and sunbathe super easily."

Cleo tried to sound confident. "Your mother and aunts sound lovely, too. Are they excited to meet me?"

He nodded, and the snakes bobbed. "Totally! My aunt Stheno hasn't stopped blowing up my phone since I told her I had a girlfriend."

The corners of her lips turned up. "We started dating over a year ago."

"Yeah, she's just a big family gal." He smiled absentmindedly. "Everyone's gonna love you."

"Does me being undead help?" Her voice had a playful edge to it

Deuce's brow furrowed, and he took her hands in sudden seriousness. "I know you're joking, but I want you to know they'll love you for you, not for what you are. You're part of my family now, Cleo, and I promise you'll love them, too."

She forgot about the accessories in front of her and melted into his hands. His constant sincerity was comforting. Touching her forehead to his, she replied, "If they're anything like you, I know I'll love them. You're my family, and you have been for longer than just the past few days."

He kissed her, and she took his face in her hands and returned the kiss warmly. In the span of a few seconds, the jewelry and scarves scattered between them had been forgotten (for the moment, anyway) in lieu of affection representing safety and security.

This was a new feeling for Cleo, and she treasured it and devoured it, and vowed to never let it go.

* * *

 

The days passed, and Ghoulia and Frankie's advice rang true; Cleo felt more and more at home in her own self, as well as among the others, as the days went on.

There was not much to do besides watch television, talk, and nap, but everyone made the most of it. In all her years, Cleo felt like she never met a truer group of people.

She adored it. She had been correct before; she felt more alive during the week in that house than she ever had. Being free of cancer was liberating in its own, special way, but she thought she probably enjoyed being free from her father even more.

She hoped Nefera was doing well. There truly was good in her sister, but it wasn't Cleo's duty to try and find it; she believed that her absence may give Nefera the push she needed to leave their father as well, and start her own life. Cleo hoped Nefera found someone who understood her as well as Deuce understood her.

The day finally came to leave for Greece. The sky was overcast that morning, but it wasn't gloomy; it felt like a security blanket of sorts.

Frankie, Holt, and Jackson had left the house the day before that; it involved a goodbye with lots of hugs all around, even from Ghoulia. It was amazing what Frankie could do with some skin paint and a turtleneck for a disguise.

It wouldn't be the last time any of their paths would cross, not by a long shot, but it was still bittersweet nonetheless.

Today, however, it was just Cleo, Deuce, and Ghoulia in the driveway. The bags were in the car's trunk -- three suitcases, two of them Deuce's, one Cleo's, packed away with fake passports and nearly all the things Deuce had bought the other day.

Neither one of them cracked jokes about him having more bags, even though they would have been funny in another situation; it just reminded Cleo that she had to leave all her things from her old life behind.

Despite this, it wasn't an unhappy situation. Cleo's heart raced at the thought of the life ahead of her, the life she thought she would never get to have. A _happy_  life, at that.

As they climbed in the car after hugging Ghoulia goodbye, Cleo waved again at her through the front window. "She's gonna be okay? The others, too?"

Deuce buckled his seatbelt. "Of course, why do you ask?"

"I don't know. It just feels odd leaving."

"Hey, they'll be okay, and so will we." He threw her a smile as he backed out of the driveway. "We'll be more than okay."

She cupped his face in one hand, and brought his lips to hers while his foot was on the brake.

A car honked behind them, and their mouths smiled against each other. They pulled apart, and Deuce put his eyes back on the road.

Cleo slipped on her sunglasses from her purse, the smirk remaining on her face. She was Cleo de Nile, and she was alive, undead, whatever.

She was alive.

**Author's Note:**

> This was heavily inspired by Pushing Daisies, can you tell?
> 
> Special thanks to my best friend Lexi for proofreading this for me over the course of several weeks, as well as helping me with the summary! She's a trooper, and I adore her.


End file.
